And Then There Were None
by broadwaybaby4205
Summary: Each bohemian has a certain relationship with each holiday. Each chapter can be read as a oneshot. Contains multiple flasbacks. Pairings: MimiAngel friendship, MarkRoger friendship, RogerMimi, MoJo, MarkMaureen, and tiny hints of MaureenRoger friendship.
1. Thanksgiving

**Author's Note: Well, I was thinking about how Thanksgiving is never mentioned in RENT and that gave me the idea to write this. So basically this is a oneshot that takes place between Halloween and What You Own. It's totally Mimicentric. Anyhow, read and review!**

**Disclaimer: RENT is not mine. RENT has never been mine. RENT will never be mine. End of story. **

Mimi wrapped her thin coat tighter around her small frame as she sat on the park bench where she had been sleeping, shivering in the icy November air.

It was early in the morning and there was a thin layer of frost on everything in sight. She was at the very least relieved it wasn't snowing.

She was completely tired and utterly exhausted. Mimi swiftly moved from the position she had formerly been in and stretched out across the bench. Slowly, she shut her eyes, attempting to fall asleep.

Mimi lay there for several minutes. Once she was finally about to fall asleep, a voice broke her trance.

"Daddy, why is the girl sleeping on the bench?" Mimi heard a voice say.

She opened her eyes very slightly to see a small girl with blonde curly hair, clad in a little red coat, staring at her incredulously. Her father was a tall man with a receding hairline whose remaining hair was a dyed blonde hue. He wore a gray suit and glasses.

"Some people don't have anywhere to go," the man kindly answered his daughter as he kept walking, hoping she would follow suit.

However, his plan failed and his daughter remained standing firmly in her spot.

"But, daddy, it's Thanksgiving!" the girl reminded.

"I know, Marie, let's go home and bake apple pie. What do you say?" he suggested.

"Yeah!" the small girl agreed before scampering off in the opposite direction, her father sprinting after her.

Mimi sighed to herself. It was Thanksgiving. Because God knows the day needed to get worse.

She bitterly smirked, remembering a time when Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday. That sure as hell had changed…

"_Mami! Wake up!" nine-year-old Mimi Marquez urged as she shook her sleeping mother._

"_You need your sleep," her mother responded, "It's early."_

"_But, it's Thanksgiving!" Mimi protested, pouting her lips, "Papi will be home from the supermarket soon! We need to be awake so we can start making the pie as soon as he gets here!"_

"_Mi hija, you need your rest," her mother pressed._

"_Fine, you can sleep, but I'm getting up," Mimi triumphantly decided, prancing into their small kitchen and opening the refrigerator. _

_She pulled out a box of cereal, dumping it into a bowl. She began picking on the dried cereal and stared eagerly at the door, waiting for her father to come through it. _

_Thanksgiving was Mimi's favorite holiday. Her father always got up early and went to buy all the ingredients for dinner, at then came home around ten, when Mimi usually got up. She always begged her mother to get up too, but she usually continued to sleep until about noon. In the mean time, she and her dad would start making the pie, and then begin on the turkey once her mother awoke. _

_As she finished off the bowl of cereal, Mimi excitedly wondered if her dad bought the ingredients for pumpkin, apple, or pecan pie. They changed their preference every year. _

_Mimi waltzed over to the small window on the side of their Spanish Harlem apartment and sat at the window, watching. Her father still wasn't there. _

_After waiting for a good hour, she scampered into her room, changing out of her pajamas and into jeans, a t-shirt, tennis shoes, and warm coat._

_She headed toward the door, and walked to the apartment, knocking on the door until a Hispanic boy who looked about a few years older than her came to the door._

"_Mimichica!" the boy called._

"_Angel!" Mimi grinned, throwing her arms around her friend._

"_Where's your papi? Shouldn't you be making dinner right about now?" Angel inquired._

"_The market must be crowded. He's not here yet. Do you wanna come over?" Mimi invited._

"_Sure," Angel smiled, "Let me just tell my parents."_

"_Okay, and bring Monopoly!" Mimi insisted, indicating Angel's old Monopoly board that he had saved up for._

_Within a few moments, Angel returned, game board in hand, and the two headed next door, and went into Mimi's room. _

_They continued to play, even finishing the game. Mimi had won, and she grinned triumphantly as she snatched Angel's last dollar bill from him._

"_What time is it?" Mimi asked._

"_It's two," Angel responded, looking at his watch._

"_Where is he?" Mimi cried in frustration, "I'm waking up mami."_

_With that, Mimi stomped with determination to her mother's room._

"_Mami, wake up! It's two o'clock! Papi's still not here!" Mimi exclaimed, shaking her mother's shoulders._

"_Mimi," her mother began, as she woke up, her eyes down._

"_Do you know where he is?" Mimi urged._

"_Chica," she started yet again._

"_Tell me! I'm worried!" Mimi lamented._

"_Chica, he's gone._

"_Gone?" Mimi responded, tears welling up in her large brown eyes, "Where did he go?"_

"_He left us. I didn't want to have to tell you today. He left early this morning. He woke me up to tell me. We're getting separated. He's going away with Esmeralda, the woman who works at the florist."_

"_No!" Mimi wailed, "He can't! It's Thanksgiving!" _

_Angel fled into the room, having heard Mimi's wails._

"_Is everything okay?" Angel questioned._

_Mimi's response was simply to sob into his jacket._

From that day on, Mimi Marquez never talked to her father or heard from him again. But, every Thanksgiving, she was reminded of him and she just felt so completely alone.

When Angel had been alive, he had always dragged her out of her apartment and forced her to go eat with him. Even then, she would feel depressed, but it did feel nice to know that someone was there for her. Someone cared.

But, now she had no one.

Mimi Marquez hated Thanksgiving.

**A/N: Well, review! I hope you enjoyed! **


	2. Christmas

**Author's Note: So, this was originally a oneshot, but I decided to make it multi-chaptered instead. Basically, it will be a total of seven chapters, and each chapter will focus on one of the bohemians and their relationship with a certain holiday. For example, the last chapter was focused on Thanksgiving and the character was Mimi. Each chapter can be read as a oneshot. This chapter will focus on Christmas and Roger. Warning you, this is not necessarily a happy fic. Read and review!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned RENT, I would not be writing fanfictions for it. **

Roger sat hunched over his guitar as he strummed on it.

He had always hated Christmas but this one took the cake. His girlfriend died, he had AIDS, and he was alone. What a holly jolly Christmas. He snorted to himself at his own pathetic misfortune.

"Close on Roger," Mark began, "Tuning the Fender guitar he hasn't played in a year."

"This won't tune," Roger complained more to himself than Mark.

"So we hear," Mark commented causing Roger to scoff, "he's just coming back from half a year of withdrawal."

"Are you talking to me?" Roger snapped.

He did not feel like arguing with the albino pumpkin head. Why couldn't Mark just let him be and let him drown in misery peacefully?

"Not at all," Mark replied, "Are you ready?"

He adjusted his camera.

"Hold that focus steady," Mark continued, "Tell the folks at home what you're doing Roger."

Roger smirked to himself. Screw the folks at home. Mark and Collins were the closest thing to family he had.

Roger's parents never gave a shit about him. Not even on Christmas…

_Roger Davis heard a faint buzzing and threw the sheets off of his head, rolling over to look at his alarm clock._

_He slammed the large black button on the top, stopping the incessant ringing._

_December 25 1985. Eight o'clock AM. _

_Roger sighed, rolling out of bed, clad in a black AC/DC t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. _

_He lazily shuffled into his kitchen, pulling a box of Captain Crunch out of the cupboard. As he dumped it into a bowl, he noticed a note sitting on the shelf and picked it up._

"_Roger, _

_Went to work. Be back tonight. Couldn't get the day off. Your mother will be home _

_though. Merry Christmas. _

_Love, Dad."_

_Roger smirked bitterly to himself as he crumpled up his father's note, throwing it in the trash. _

_He stalked toward the refrigerator to grab the milk, when he noticed a pink post-it stuck there. _

_He lifted it up and began to read._

"_Roger,_

_The girls and I got reservations for this morning at an amazing restaurant we've wanted to try. I'll be back this afternoon. I love you, sweetie! Merry Christmas!_

_Lots of love, Mom"_

_Roger simply chuckled under his breath at the irony as he poured his cereal and made his way into the living room, flopping down on the couch in front of the Christmas tree._

"_Merry Christmas, Roger," he muttered dejectedly to himself._

_When Roger was a little kid, he loved Christmas. It was his favorite holiday. Everything seemed so magical and so full of possibilities. Everyone seemed so happy and nothing was anything like it was the rest of the year._

_Well, now it was just worse than the rest of the year._

_As he sat in his living room alone, picking on stale Captain Crunch, he couldn't remember why he had thought it was so great in the first place._

_Primarily, Christmas just made everything that was bad worse. The entire holiday just took all of your problems and magnified them. It was always advertised that the holidays were 'the most wonderful time of the year', and all that really did was depress the people whose Christmas was less than wonderful._

_Secondly, Roger always spent Christmas alone. Always. _

_When he was younger, he would excitedly wake his parents at the crack of dawn and spring into the living room to tear open every box he could find. Then he would sit and drink a warm cup of hot chocolate with his parents while they sat and played with him._

_But, ever since he was ten, it had been the same pattern every year. His father never could get off of work and his mother was always off doing something with someone. She always said she would be back by the afternoon, but neither of them ever got home before six._

_So, Roger made his own Christmas traditions. He would eat stale cereal and listen to music – this year it was the Ride the Lightning album. _

_When Roger finished his cereal, he stumbled into the kitchen, discarding his empty bowl before sauntering toward his room._

_He flopped down on his bed and put in his walkman, allowing 'Fight Fire with Fire' to drown out the world._

_He sighed, wondering if anyone else was doing the same thing he was right now. If there was another kid spending his Christmas flopped on his bed listening to Metallica. _

_To think, Metallica would never know they were the best part of his Christmas._

_Roger allowed a genuine smile to wash over his features as an idea struck him. He wanted to be Metallica one day. Well, he didn't want to actually be Metallica, but he wanted to be like them. One day, while he was having an enjoyable Christmas, he wanted some kid to listen to his music as they lay in his room miserably. He wanted to give some kid hope.. Just like these songs had done for him._

_Roger grinned and picked up his guitar._

Well, despite all the Christmases he had spent alone and miserable, Roger could at least be glad something good came out of it. He had something to work toward. Something to live for.

"I'm writing one great song," Roger announced.

**A/N: Read and review! The next chapter will be centered around Joanne and New Year's. :)**


	3. New Year's Eve

**Author's Note: Well, guys, here's chapter three. The character is Joanne and the holiday is New Year's Eve. I really wanted to post this on New Year's Eve, but I had writer's block, so that was just like, epic fail. Haaa. Just a note, this is musicalverse, so if you've only seen the movie and the timeline doesn't make sense, that's why. Anywho, read and review please! :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, except Fred I guess. And the plotline. **

Joanne Jefferson sat on her couch, channel surfing and eating chocolate. The ultimate comfort food. As if she didn't hate New Year's Eve enough already, Maureen just had to make it worse.

Joanne sighed. As much as she hated Maureen's antics, she couldn't help but love her.

She turned and looked at her clock. It was almost midnight.

Well, she was doing the same thing she did every year. Watching TV and eating chocolate, wallowing in her immense hatred of the stupid holiday.

She sighed. Happy New Year, Joanne.

_Sixteen-year-old Joanne Jefferson entered her mother's annual New Year's Eve party clad in a black strapless dress and silver stilettos. _

_Her parents had divorced a few years ago, and as per usual, she was going to her mother's annual cocktail party thrown by her mother, and her mother's boyfriend, Fred. _

_Going to said party was not Joanne's top choice at all. However, she and her mother had been getting along lately which was a rare occasion, and she figured she would try to make an effort._

_When she was younger, Joanne was a quiet child. She didn't like to talk a lot and for the most part just kept to herself. _

_Whenever her parents would introduce her to friends of theirs, she wouldn't say much and often craved the company of solely her parents._

_It had been that way until she was about seven, but even then, her mother still saw her as that same child, labeling her as rude and cold. _

_She and her father, Harold, had a slightly better relationship, but not really. Her father had remarried and his new wife loathed Joanne with a passion._

"_Joanne!" her mother greeted, throwing her arms around her teenage daughter._

"_Mom," Joanne smiled, "It's great to see you."_

_Normally, that would have been a complete and total lie, but not any more. For the past few months, they truly had gotten along. And Joanne intended on keeping it that way. _

"_Come, darling, say hello to Fred with me," Mrs. Jefferson insisted._

"_Okay," Joanne grinned, following along._

_She didn't really know Fred well. Her mother had introduced them to one another once or twice, but whenever she came over, he was always working._

_Finally, they approached Fred, who was deep in conversation with a group of people._

"_Fred, darling," Mrs. Jefferson began, "Joanne is here."_

"_Oh, hello, sweetheart," Fred greeted, "It's a pleasure to see you again, dear."_

_Fred was significantly older than her mother. He was a tall Caucasian man who reeked of cigars and whiskey. He seemed nice enough in the few encounters they had had with one another._

"_Oh, is this your new wife?" one of Fred's associates inquired._

"_Yes, I don't believe we've gotten the opportunity to meet," Mrs. Jefferson cordially responded, "I'm Mrs. Jefferson-Ainsworth. It's a pleasure to meet you."_

_Joanne froze where she was. She was on Candid Camera. She had to be. Fred and her mother weren't married._

"_Mom, can I talk to you for a moment?" Joanne inquired, tapping her mother on the shoulder._

"_Yes, darling," she answered before turning to Fred and his associates, "I'll be right back. It was a pleasure to meet you."_

"_Mother, let's go upstairs for just a moment," Joanne suggested._

"_Joanne, this is a party and I'm the hostess. It's rude for me to abandon my guests," Mrs. Jefferson-Ainsworth retorted._

"_It will just take a minute," Joanne insisted, motioning her mother toward the stairs until she finally obliged. _

"_Just like when you were little. I can't believe I raised such an antisocial child," her mother grumbled until they finally reached the her mother and Fred's bedroom and Joanne entered it, her mother in close pursuit, "What is so important?"_

"_Married, mother?" Joanne coolly confronted, "You got married and you didn't think to tell your own daughter?"_

"_Oh, that. Look, Joanne, sweetie, this isn't the way I wanted you to find out. I'm sorry," Mrs. Jefferson-Ainsworth apologized. _

"_And what was the way you wanted me to find out?" Joanne spat, "It didn't occur to you to invite me to your own wedding?"_

"_Look, darling, it was just a small wedding. We went down to the court and signed the papers. There wasn't a ceremony or anything like that. And I was just waiting for the right time to tell you. I really am sorry. It's been great getting along with you and being married to Fred these past few months, and I just figured everything would get ruined if I told you," her mother explained._

"_Months?" Joanne interrogated, "Being married these past few months? You've been married for months?" _

"_Just since October, look, sweetie-" Mrs. Jefferson-Ainsworth attempted to coax._

"_No, don't you 'sweetie' me! You didn't tell me you were married for two months! Finally, we were getting along and then you go and get married behind my back!" Joanne hollered._

"_Look, I recognize that it was wrong and I'm sorry," her mother reiterated, "You have to believe me, sweetie. We just signed the papers and that was it. Now would you please just forgive me so we can go back the party? I have guests to attend to."_

_Joanne wanted to protest. She wanted to say that she didn't forgive her. That her mother was wrong. That she hated her. But instead, she cordially nodded, holding back tears, and headed toward the door behind her mother. _

_Her mother smiled, stepping out of the room, Joanne almost to the door. When she reached it, a silver picture frame caught her eye. In the photo was her mother and Fred. Fred was in a black tuxedo, standing beside her mother, clad in a white dress. Her mother's hair was piled up on top of her head and she was sporting a beautiful veil adorned with beads. They were both grinning happily and an array of people could be seen behind them in formal wear, snapping pictures and laughing._

_Joanne felt her stomach sink. That was it._

_She headed out of the door in a daze, gliding down the staircase._

_Was she really that horrible? Apparently so. Joanne really had herself convinced that she and her mother were getting along. That her mother was actually starting to enjoy her company, but apparently, she was wrong. She was so horrible that her mother didn't even want to invite her to her wedding, let alone inform her only daughter that she was getting married. _

_Joanne stepped out of the door, and that was the last time she saw her mother. _

Joanne heard her phone ring. She assumed it was Maureen and let it go to the machine again.

Sure enough, she was right.

"Honey? I know you're there," she heard Maureen's voice whine, "Please pick up the phone. Are you okay? It's not funny. It's not fair! I lose control, but I can learn to behave, give me one more chance, let me be your slave."

Oh screw this. She missed Maureen too much. She was gonna head down their.

She paused the television, rising from the couch, Joanne slid on a coat and some shoes.

Joanne hated New Year's, but maybe that could change.

**A/N: Well, that's the end of this chapter. The next one will be focused on Maureen and Valentine's Day. I really hope you enjoyed this. I had a really difficult time getting inside of Joanne's head so I hope this was in character and believable. Review and let me know please! :)**


	4. Valentine's Day

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Well, here's chapter four. It is centered around Maureen and Valentine's Day. This takes place right after "Take Me or Leave Me" and is musical verse, just so you know. This chapter is one of my favorites, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, updates will be a little slow until the very end of February, because I have finals coming up and I'm totally screwed for physics and geometry. Anyway, enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: RENT is not mine.**

Maureen sat down in the Life Café, waiting for her coffee to be ready.

Some Valentine's Day this had been. Joanne was such an anal control freak. She couldn't understand what her problem was. She just wanted a little attention. Was there something wrong with that?

_An eleven-year-old Maureen Johnson sat on her bed going through her pile of valentines. _

_When she reached the bottom, she sighed to herself. She hated Valentine's Day more than anything. She would just get all the mandatory valentines that had to go to everyone in the class. The ones that just said "Happy Valentine's Day"._

_Nothing personal. Nothing special._

_That's exactly what she felt like. Nothing special. Why would anyone think otherwise? She felt awkward and hideous as she looked up and stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She examined her facial features in disgust. No wonder no one liked her. _

"_Dinner!" she heard her mother call from the kitchen._

_She hopped up from her bed, stepping out of her room and heading toward the kitchen. _

_When she arrived, she saw her father sitting at the table while her mother placed a pasta dish on the table. _

"_Daddy! You're home for dinner!" Maureen grinned. _

"_Hello, honey," her dad smirked. _

"_How was work today?" Maureen asked giving him a toothy smile._

"_Oh, it was good," he vaguely responded._

_Maureen and her father had never really been close. He went to work, he came home, he ate dinner with her and her mother. But, Maureen always loved him nonetheless. _

_For some reason unknown to even her, she admired him. And she wanted more than anything for him to pay attention to her. To notice her and admire her the way she admired him, and to be proud that she was his daughter. _

_Her mother finally took a seat and the family began eating._

"_How was school today, sweetie?" her mother inquired._

"_It was pretty good," Maureen lied. _

_She would tell her mother about the Valentine's Day disaster later. Maureen didn't want her father to know that his daughter was probably the least desired girl in the sixth grade._

"_Is Nanette still coming over after school tomorrow?" her mother continued._

"_Yeah, she just got this new board game. I can't remember what it's called but it sounds really fun! She's gonna ride the bus with me after school," Maureen confirmed. _

_Maureen and her mother continued to make idle chat throughout dinner while her father ominously picked at his food. _

_The entire time, Maureen decided to tell her mother all the highlights of her day. The A she had gotten on her Algebra test, Janet, the most popular girl in school, complimenting her on her outfit, hoping to get a reaction from her father. But nothing worked. _

_When the Johnsons had finished eating, Maureen strolled to her room to work on her science homework. _

_Within a few minutes, she got bored and decided to get one of the muffins her mother had baked the previous day. _

_They were these scrumptious double chocolate chip muffins that practically melted in her mouth when she bit in then, the rich flavor staying on her tongue until she brushed her teeth again. _

_And maybe her father would be in the kitchen alone and she could convince him to take her to do something fun that coming weekend._

_Maureen immediately hopped up and headed out her door. _

_When Maureen was almost to the hallway, she heard her parents talking in hushed stern tones and stopped in her tracks, listening to their conversation._

"_Honey, I don't understand you. Maureen is a little girl. She's only eleven. It's totally normal for her to have put a little weight on. I was shaped just like her at that age," Mrs. Johnson muttered to her husband._

"_It's not healthy, dear. I'm thinking we should put her on a diet," Mr. Johnson insisted._

"_A diet?" her mother questioned, "You have got to be kidding me."_

"_I'm not. Just be reasonable. Imagine what it'll be like for her if she's still at this weight in high school," Maureen heard her father gape._

"_You're being overdramatic. She's put a little weight on in her midsection, but it's not anything worth worrying about. I'm not going to discuss this any further," her mother snapped before the couple fell into silence. _

_Maureen quickly headed back to her room, feeling hot tears welling in her chocolate orbs. _

_At that moment, it finally clicked. _

_Her own father didn't think she was pretty enough. That she was thin enough. That she was good enough. _

_And as Maureen digested that information, she felt something inside of her die. _

As soon as Maureen had hit puberty, she certainly grew into herself. Guys immediately started responding to her looks and she reveled in the attention.

The attention she had never gotten as a child. The attention she now craved.

"Maureen!" she heard the man behind the counter call as she rose to her feet and went to go grab her coffee.

She smirked at him as she grabbed her coffee cup, the man ogling her all the while.

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please read and review! :)**


	5. Easter

**Author's Note: Yeah, I know I haven't updated in like two months and you all probably thought I fell off the face of the earth. This chapter was just really hard to write because it's just easier for me to get inside the other character's heads than Angel's, so this is kinda more Mimi/Angel friendship than it is just Angel. Well, read and review, my dears! The holiday is Easter and the character is Angel.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned RENT, they would have filmed the final tour show rather than the final Broadway show.**

"Chica, open the door!" Angel hollered, banging on the front door to Mimi's loft.

He was freezing and wanted to get inside now. Despite it being the middle of spring, it was snowing out. Angel had just come from his and Collins's apartment on the other side of Tomkins Square Park wearing a thin gray sweatshirt and jeans.

After a few moments, the door finally swung open to reveal Mimi clad in a teal skirt and a chocolate-colored sweater paired with brown leather boots and fishnets.

"Hey," Mimi grinned, embracing her friend, "Happy Easter."

"Happy Easter to you too," Angel smiled, "I come bearing cash. I was thinking we could go to the Life."

"Sounds good to me," Mimi answered, "Just come in while I find a warm coat."

Angel followed Mimi's request, entering the loft and plopping down on the couch.

"How are things with Roger?" Angel inquired.

"I don't really wanna talk about it," Mimi admitted as she continued to search her closet.

"What happened?" Angel pressed; however, Mimi remained silent.

"Please," Angel begged.

"He thinks I'm cheating on him with Benny," Mimi informed her friend.

"What? That's insane. He should know that, sweetie," Angel interjected.

"I know," Mimi agreed, sliding on a navy parka.

"That clashes. Navy doesn't go with teal, not to mention the skirt shape is all wrong with that and the boots clash with the lining," Angel commented.

"Thanks," Mimi laughed, pulling off the coat and putting it back.

"It's my pleasure. Anyway, what's making him think that? Is it what Benny said on New Year's?" Angel probed.

"No, I've been coming home from work late," Mimi vaguely explained.

"Why?" Angel questioned.

"I've just been getting held up," Mimi lied, "My boss has been having me work extra hours, plus I need the cash."

"Well, killing dogs for money is much more rewarding," Angel teased, "Anyway, if you want me to I'll talk to Roger about it."

"You'd do that?" Mimi grinned, pulling on a brown jacket and shutting her closet door.

"Of course I would, sugar," Angel promised, enveloping Mimi in a hug.

"Do you approve of my coat?" Mimi laughed.

"Yes, much better," Angel chuckled in response, "Do you mind if I borrow one of your jackets though? This sweatshirt is not doing the trick."

"And you wore that in the forty degree weather why?" Mimi asked.

"Collins was borrowing my red jacket, so it was this or that green parka we bought," Angel cringed.

"Well, I'd be happy to lend you a coat, but all I have is the dreaded black parka," Mimi replied.

"I guess I'm going with comfort over looks today," Angel smirked.

Mimi held out a large boxy-looking black parka. She and Angel had gotten it, along with Angel's green one, off of a vendor on the corner of St. Mark's Place and Avenue B the day they first moved to the Lower East Side from Spanish Harlem.

They were sharing Mimi's loft at the time and they had no heat. Both of them were freezing their asses off and went to buy the warmest coats, no matter how ugly they may be.

"Sounds great," Angel smiled as Mimi tossed him the coat.

He slid it onto his slender body, zipping it up and putting his hands in the pocket as the two headed toward the door.

"Oh, sweetie, I think you left something in your pocket," Angel told her, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the object, only to discover a small packet containing white powder.

"Angel…I can explain," Mimi insisted.

"Since when are you shooting up again?" Angel interrogated.

Angel hated it when Mimi did drugs. She was too good for that. He hated seeing his best friend have to resort to that, and he hated it even more ever since the day she told him about her HIV.

"Look, I've only done it twice," Mimi swore.

"Is this why you've been coming home from work late?" Angel continued to interrogate.

"Yes, but you can't tell Roger, okay? He'll be so disappointed in me," Mimi pleaded.

"Well, right now you're not even together because he thinks you're cheating! Which do you think is worse?" Angel bellowed.

"I don't know, okay?" Mimi hollered back.

"You have to tell him," Angel continued to plead.

"No," Mimi sternly responded.

"Well, then you have to stop doing this shit, Meems," Angel demanded.

"I know, okay?" Mimi reacted, her voice cracking a bit, "I wanna stop, I just can't. It makes me feel better…it makes me forget that I only have a few years left."

At this point, her large chocolate colored eyes were watering ever so slightly as the petite Latina looked at her friend.

"Come here," Angel smiled sadly, hugging her yet again.

"I'm just scared," Mimi admitted, "I just don't like people to know it, especially Roger. He's already afraid and lost enough. I don't wanna go dumping my problems on him."

"It's not dumping your problems on him. All you're doing is letting him in. He loves you," Angel advised.

"He hasn't that yet, and he'll be so disappointed in me. I'd rather him think I'm screwing Benny than know this," Mimi admitted.

"Just think about it, okay, chica?" Angel insisted.

"Fine," Mimi reluctantly agreed.

"Good, now let's eat," Angel decided, heading toward the door with Mimi in close pursuit.

**A/N: I hope you guys liked this chapter! I know it's kind of different than the others, but Easter isn't mentioned in the show, so this is more like what was going on with Angel on Easter in the play. Anyway, review darlings! **


	6. Fourth of July

**Author's Note: Well, here's chapter seven. This focuses on Mark and Fourth of July. Read and review! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned RENT, I would, um, er, um, er, ahhh, I'm too lazy to think of a creative disclaimer.**

"Happy Fourth of July," Mark muttered to himself, as he plopped down in a Chinese food restaurant on the corner of 12th and Avenue A, kung pao chicken in front of him.

Collins was with Angel at the hospital, who had been getting increasingly sicker. Roger and Mimi, as well as Maureen and Joanne, were actually together at the moment, so they were off doing God knows what.

And Mark was alone, as always, sweating his ass off in the humid ninety degree weather as he stuffed his face with food. Wasn't he blessed.

And to make matters worse, all he could think of was that day five years ago.

_A sixteen-year-old Mark Cohen sat in Scarsdale Community Park, lying on a blanket. It was the annual Fourth of July Barbecue and he, his parents, and his elder sister, Cindy, had headed over to eat and watch the fireworks once it got dark._

_Cindy was off with her friends doing God knows what, and lucky Mark got to sit there and listen to his parents argue over who got to eat the rest of the coleslaw._

_Mark attempted to distract himself from them, his eyes wandering across the park. Finally, his gaze set on a grinning brunette, namely Maureen Johnson. _

_She was talking with Roger, Mark's best friend. He must've said something funny, which was a rare occasion, for Maureen was doubled over in hysterics laughing, her loose curls catching the sunlight. _

_Mark and Maureen were friends, just not particularly close. She and Roger, however, were good friends, although they tended to bicker a great deal. Ever since seventh grade it had always been Roger, Mark, and Maureen; they were always together. Mark and Maureen, however, were not as close as Mark would've liked them to be, because whenever he got within five feet of her, he started stuttering like an idiot. So basically, he was just Roger's nervous, socially retarded friend that followed Roger and Maureen around._

_Anyway, Mark couldn't help but stare. As he continued to intensely gaze at her, his eye caught Roger's who pointed him out to Maureen and began walking over toward him. _

_Shit. Shit. Shit. He ran a finger through his exceedingly short blonde hair, hoping it would somehow look like that of James Dean magically. He glanced over at his parents, willing them to disappear. Sadly, it didn't work._

"_Marky!" Maureen hollered, kneeling down and throwing her arms around Mark as soon as she reached them._

_Mark felt his cheeks grow hot, having trouble remembering how to speak._

"_Maureen…um…hi," Mark awkwardly mumbled, "Hey, Roger."_

_Roger simply nodded in response, smirking slightly as he gave Mark a knowing look. _

_Mark simply glowered at Roger._

"_Maureen! Roger!" Mrs. Cohen happily greeted, pulling the two into a giant hug._

_Dear God. Mark wanted to melt into the floor. Maureen probably thought he was such a freak._

"_How are you doing?" Maureen asked with a smile as simply grunted a greeting in response._

"_I'm good, sweetie. Glad you came along to talk to Marky. He was looking lonely and bored, not to mention he's been staring at you for about ten minutes now," Mrs. Cohen admitted._

"_Albert! Come on! I see the Schmitts!" Mrs. Cohen bellowed to her husband, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the kids._

_Mark stood their awkwardly, watching Maureen out of the corner of his eye. Maybe if he really set his mind to it, he could melt into the grass. _

"_Let's get food," Roger suggested, breaking the silence and heading toward the food, Mark and Maureen in close pursuit._

_As Maureen babbled endlessly about how many cattle must have died for the barbecue, but Mark barely heard a word of it. He was too busy primarily, staring at her, and secondly, hoping to God she thought his mother was not fully sane._

"_So, Mark, what do you think?" Maureen inquired._

"_What?" Mark asked, breaking out of his trance._

"_The question I just asked you…"she reminded._

"_Oh, um…no," Mark responded, hoping to God that was the right answer._

"_Uh, that wasn't a yes or no question," Maureen stated, "I asked what you thought about animals being used for fur clothing."_

_Shit, shit, shit, shit. That was the never-ending mantra going on inside Mark's head._

"_I mean, no, I think that animals should not be used for fur production…it's not…good," Mark stuttered, hoping to God that sounded coherent._

"_I completely agree," Maureen beamed as they reached the table serving the food, "Roger eat all the ribs you want, Marky, what do you say we go to the vegan place across the street?"_

"_Sounds good to me," Roger smirked._

"_O-Okay," Mark agreed._

_Shit. What had he gotten himself into? He hated vegan food more than anything. It all tasted like asparagus no matter what it was supposed to be._

"_We'll get it to go and sit under one of the trees and watch the fire works," Maureen suggested as nightfall slowly overcame downtown Scarsdale, "Sound okay?"_

"_Y-Yes," Mark stumbled._

_Sound coherent! Complete sentences! No stuttering! Mark continued to shout commands to himself internally, as they walked across the street, Maureen babbling while Mark gazed at her in awe and commanded himself not to act stupid._

_The walk across the street seemed like a trip to Mecca, but they finally entered the restaurant, the aroma of asparagus filling Mark's nose. He had to physically stop himself from gagging. _

_Not to Mark's surprise, the restaurant was empty, so they were able to walk to the front of the line immediately. _

"_We'll split the Buffalo chicken pizza," Maureen ordered, "Does that sound okay?" _

"_Yeah, I love that stuff," Mark smiled. _

_He didn't know vegans could eat chicken. This was great; that was his favorite kind of pizza._

_Maureen began to pull out her wallet, but Mark stopped her._

"_Oh, uh, I'll pay for it," he awkwardly grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet._

_Much to his dismay, all he had was what seemed like a mountain of quarters. He mentally kicked himself as he stared at the daunting clump of change. What was worse, stand here counting out quarters or let her pay? He decided to count out the quarters. _

_The total was seven dollars. He started pulling out quarters and counting them as rapidly as he could, which backfired because he kept losing count and having to start over._

"_Marky, it's fine," Maureen insisted, "I'll pay."_

"_No, really, I don't mind," Mark pressed, digging through his wallet."_

_However, Maureen ignored his plea and handed the cashier seven dollars. He handed her the pizza and the two headed out the door in silence._

"_I would've paid for it, really," Mark promised._

"_I know, but it's okay," Maureen smiled, "I don't mind."_

_By this point, the sun had completely hidden behind far off hills, and the fireworks were minutes away from starting as the pair plopped down under a tree with their pizza. Mark opened the box, reaching in, and taking a bite as the first firework began to go off._

_Holy fuck. It was wasn't actual chicken. Mark shut his eyes tightly, thankful that is it was dark, and swallowed the pizza. It tasted like asparagus. Why was even surprised at this point?_

_Meanwhile, while Mark and Maureen sat in silence, picking at their pizza, Maureen planted her hand on top of Mark's, her focus unwavering as she watched a flash of blue and gold erupt in the night sky. _

_Mark was stuck somewhere between jumping up and down and having a panic attack. He had no fucking clue what he was supposed to do. Should he pull away? That would be rude. Should he stroke her hand or something? Let's face it, he was too nervous to even formulate a complete sentence right now._

_He glanced over at her, eyeing her petite form as she continued to study the sky. She looked over at him, catching his eye and holding his gaze. _

_Now Mark really didn't know what to do. Should he look the other way? It seemed like that moment. You know, the moment before a kiss that they always showed in those movies, but he sure as hell couldn't bring himself to move an inch. _

_All he could do was sit there and will his leg to stop shaking. It was like she had turned him immobile._

_Slowly, but steadily, she inched her face closer to his. He could feel and hear the acceleration of his heartbeat as his palms began to sweat. After what seemed like an eternity, Maureen pressed her lips softly and slowly against his. His head began pounding as he sat there, unsure of what the fuck he was supposed to do. _

_Finally, she pulled away from him, leaning her head against his shoulder, her loose curls cascading across his shirt._

"_Wh-What was that?" Mark whispered, still awestruck._

"_Happy Fourth of July, Marky," Maureen giggled, burying her head further into his chest as she continued to watch the fireworks and Mark continued to watch her._

_This was the best day of his life. Bar none._

This was the worst day of his life, bar none. Everyone had someone but him, and today in particular, he felt more alone than ever.

Mark couldn't help but relish in self pity as he pushed his kung pao chicken around on his plate.

He wished he had gotten vegan food.

**A/N: I hope you guys liked this! It was my personal favorite chapter. Anywhosers, read and review, my dears! And although I love getting story alerts and favorite ads, I get like eight times the amount of those I do reviews. Seriously, guys, it takes like, two seconds. Press button, tell me what you think…**


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